Page 41 of Coach
“Of course,” her cousin, a townie, said, grabbing the blonde and giving her a wide-eyed look.
There was nothing but awkward silence then as the girls gathered their things and followed Raff outside to the rideshare.
Slash’s bike rumbled up the street first.
Then Detroit, Sway, Crow, Riff, Rook, and Judge.
“Everyone’s gone?” Slash asked as the group moved into the messy common room.
“Yeah,” Raff assured him, closing and locking the door.
“Good. Alright,” Slash said, looking at me. “What is the situation?”
“Better I just show you,” I said. “Give me a sec.”
With that, I made my way back to the supply closet, unlocking the door, and finding Rafe in the process of trying to rig a mop into a weapon.
“Come on,” I said, deciding not to even acknowledge the attempt to fight his way out. In the same situation, any sane person would do whatever was necessary to get away.
Once he stepped past, I grabbed the back of his neck, steering him toward the front of the building and making it impossible for him to turn around and attack me.
“No fucking way,” Sway said, eyes going bright.
“Your ass shoulda been gone,” Saint said, shaking his head.
“Believe me, I would have if the roads weren’t all blocked off.”
“Rafe Marsters,” Slash said. “You are a very wanted man.”
“As far as I can tell, no one has escaped prison and evaded capture for more than two days in the past several years,” Rafe said. “I’m making everyone look bad.”
“Where have you been?” Slash asked. “The mountains?”
“Been moving around,” Rafe admitted. “They’ve been combing the area, but this town has a lot of places to hide.”
“The abandoned buildings?” Sway asked.
“Them, sure. But I’ve been in a couple houses and apartments too. Got me some street clothes and showers. You’d be surprised how unobservant people can be. So, what’s this? Are you turning me in?” Rafe’s gray eyes moved around, then landed on Saint. “Wait. I know you. Well, know of you.”
“Was on the inside too until recently.”
“Wait… so are you not turning me in?” he asked.
Everyone glanced at Slash.
“Depends on what you did to get inside.”
We’d all seen the initial news report about his escape. But they’d been vague about his crimes. Words like ‘violent criminal’ had been thrown around but without the specifics.
We weren’t exactly opposed to violent criminals. Hell, Rook, Colter, Saint, and I were all inside that same prison for violent crimes.
Context mattered.
If he was some serial rapist, woman-beater, or pedo, we’d all personally drag his ass back to the prison. Likely a little bloody and bruised. If psycho-ass Crow didn’t just decide to take him out to the mountains and brutally kill him instead.
“I went in for… fencing stolen goods.”
“Bullshit,” Slash said, eyes narrowing. “News said you were a violent criminal.”
